Homemade Pasta Sauce and Player Piano

Last week in between one medical appointment after another in Colorado Springs, this mama got to spend a day with my daughters helping to can homemade pasta sauce.

It did my heart good to be with my middle daughters again, just working together like in old times-

-only this time they were in charge and Mom was helping!!  

I was so proud of how well Rose and Carrie have learned to do things such as cooking and canning and preserving. 

They even dried a bunch of mushrooms recently!  

I love seeing evidences of what my daughters are up to--such as an invitation on Carrie's refrigerator to a pro-life event. 

And while this photo is anything but flattering, (I think I needed a daughter to style my hair!) it does show my son getting a haircut. It does my heart good that my sons like to catch up on haircuts when they come around. I am so grateful my boys still like to look like a man instead of like a woman.

I told Sam he needs to find someone to give him a professional haircut, and he reminded me that I have told him that every time I have given him a haircut for the last how many years!

And I crow with laughter--and hope it is the chemo.

It couldn't possibly be anything wrong with my brain or anything like that.  

Wednesday evening right after my brain MRI, the girls and I stopped at Jonathan's dad's place where Grammy Ruth listened to Daddy Lucas's old player piano for the first time. 

The girls knew she hadn't ever heard anyone pump that player piano and that she'd been wanting to hear it. 

So they dashed back to where they knew Grandpa kept some player piano music rolls and appeared again in short order and began to pump. First Hannah played "The Bumblebee," and then Carrie pumped for "The Holy City."

That song wafted me back to the years of my family singing together--my next brother Elon singing "The Holy City," as a solo, one of my favorites, along with "Somebody Bigger Than You and I." 

I sat there, weak after a stressful day of two medical tests in a row, willing myself not to cry as I heard the familiar notes 

of a song of a beautiful city, new Jerusalem,

where there is no more pain, no more cancer, no more tears, no more uncertainty, no more worries.

And no more sin.

That city is holy. And no unclean thing shall enter.

Jesus, cleanse me, always and every day, that I may be worthy to enter there,

and to walk with You in white.

The Friendly Hen-and Can I Just Relax?

The last three days here in South Dakota, I have taken time to sit with bare feet on the porch swing on our basement patio, grounding and relaxing. I've learned that there is a flow of healthy electrons between the earth and our bodies--if that flow is not interrupted by rubber soled footwear or tires or pavement or most house floors. Grounding helps our bodies find balance. One doctor at the clinic in Arizona claimed that 45 minutes barefoot on the earth does as much good for a person's body as 100,000 milligrams of Vitamin C! I don't know if that is true or not, but the point was made, and I have been going barefoot outside for a while each day or on the patio which is concrete, a grounded material.

 

Yesterday one of our friendly white hens suddenly appeared nearby. She seemed to be looking for bugs--and was certainly finding one or two, coming nearer and nearer to me on the swing.

There I was, sitting, not even praying. Often, if I sit down even for a minute, I try to turn the time into prayer. Last month I had been trying to pray more--an hour a day more than my usual devotions, and while it worked the first day, I was finding myself struggling and overwhelmed with it. I was not finding any inspiration for my blog, and was feeling tied up and anxious. 

Sometimes, even when we want to be more spiritual or pray more, we can make mistakes. "Can you not watch with Me one hour?"had spoken to me the first day, and I had spent a wonderful hour praying.

But I got to thinking God must be wanting me to do that every day, on top of my usual devotions. And I discovered it was not working. The gentle call to an extra hour of prayer was for one day, not for the rest of my life necessarily.

I wish I was a little smarter, and could figure things out more quickly, but after that happened, I've sensed a call to relax.

To trust God with all those heavy things I was trying to pray about--the election, needed revival in our land, the reservations, our family, protection over us missionaries and the SIM properties and works.

To put it all in His hands and find rest instead of a heavy load. 

With my body loaded with cancer, I don't have the strength to carry heavy loads.

I watched as the hen took off across the brush-hogged grass to the tall weeds down under the elm tree--intent on grasshoppers for her mid-afternoon snack! She scared a pair of doves while she was at it, and they went flapping away.

Having apparently found her bug snack quite satisfying, she returned to the patio--and me. Apparently, she had not noticed me before! :) :) Me sitting there barefoot, swinging gently in the shade of the house just before the sun came around too much.

The next thing I knew, that hen was pecking curiously at something on my skirt--the tiny wooden beads sewed onto the red appliques! 

Thankfully, she discovered they were securely sewed onto the skirt and did not taste good, so she soon quietly wandered off again--

a friendly little hen that brought a bit of peaceful companionship to a mom sitting alone on a swing

in the middle of the day. 

Relaxing and releasing an awful lot of stuff into God's hands.

Elk in Sunset--Kitty in Arms--and Sam and Caitlyn

 We've had some special moments in the last week, such as for a few minutes stopping to watch a herd of elk come down to graze near the highway we were traveling on to Colorado Springs.

 Elk in the sunset was just awesome!

I watched from the car, and listened as mama elk called to their babies and babies "mewed" for their mamas.

Jonathan didn't used to like cats, but this one at Carrie's cabin wouldn't take no for an answer. 

She just had to be held and scratched. See her stretching out her leg, so contented! 

Jonathan carried her with him when he went to let the dogs out of the barn in the morning since Carrie had left early for work! 

Carrie's cabin was so restful to me last week.  

She very much hopes that her cousin Krissy will come live with her soon.

 

Jonathan also couldn't help paying some attention to the crazy black buck goat on the property. That crazy goat had us in stitches!

And some of my happiest moments are when my children send pictures of their fun times, too. Here Rose, Tom, Sam, Carrie, and Robby Hagerty are climbing one of the Spanish Peaks.  

It was also wonderful to get to see Sam's place where he's been renting this tiny home while he's been gutting and remodeling a fixer-upper.   

 

Jonathan and I also got to meet for the first time Sam's girlfriend Caitlyn Kelly, a young lady from the church he attends. 

It made me smile to see him streak out the door minutes before she arrived to Rose's place for the evening--so he could open the doors and gate for her! I managed to get this photo of the two! Caitlyn noticed me trying to sneak a picture of her and told me that she would be happy to smile for me! She doesn't detest photos as much as Sam--which will bring good balance to the situation! :) :)

Here Rose is showing her pictures of her wedding. I liked Caitlyn as soon as Sam sent me the first picture of her, and so many things we've learned about her are so wholesome and good, and I'm so thankful. Her family has many things in common with ours--they raise dogs and puppies, go camping, are faithful church goers and have a mission mindset. Caitlyn works for her church and for CHEC, a home school organization. Sam told me, "She loves God and she loves people."
I don't know a better testimony than that.

He sent me this picture of them where they had hiked to the top of Castle Rock.  When Sam went on the medical mission trip to Africa a few months ago, the team stayed at the home of  Caitlyn's sister's family. Her oldest sister and husband have been missionaries in Africa for some time. But when Sam was over there, he seemed unusually happy, and I had wondered if there wasn't some reason besides that he was just having a blast with all the adventure and sight-seeing. It wasn't until after that trip that Sam first called me to tell me he had called Caitlyn's father to ask permission to date his younger daughter. 

The father told him, "I've liked you since the first time I saw you." and "I have been praying for this day."

Sam let me know he and Caitlyn were going out for their first date, and they have been dating now for nearly a couple months. 

My prayers are with them, and I'm delighted at how God is bringing young people into our children's lives. 

Just two months after Crystal was found by Ricky, Sam started dating Caitlyn!

I am eager to see what God wants to teach me through this new relationship with a sweet young lady who "loves God and loves people."

Jonathan Joins Evangelistic Team at Sturgis Bike Rally

A couple weeks ago, after taking Crystal and me to the airport to fly to Arizona one last time, Jonathan stayed overnight in Rapid City so that he could join an evangelistic team distributing gospel booklets at the Sturgis Bike Rally. 

 

This rally is an annual event that draws a hundred thousand bikers--most of whom desperately need the Lord.

Booklets written and printed by Gospel Publishing Mission with the rally in view had been printed in a Central or South American location to save money and then shipped to the USA. The boxes were sitting on a trailer in the parking lot of a church in town.

Sunday afternoon after attending church and Sunday dinner at the Woodards' home, Jonathan's team traveled to Sturgis, discovering another group of Christians gathered around a large cross. The group was forming a circle to pray, and Jonathan's team joined them.

They prayed for the people at this bike rally.

Here is the booklet the team was giving out. 

The team split into groups of two, and Jonathan and his team member walked down about eight blocks of Sturgis, handing out about 500 booklets.

One of the team members shared how that when they handed a booklet to a man, he rejected it, but then changed his mind and turned around.

"I used to be a Christian," he said, "but I lost my way. I need to get back to God."

That is why Jonathan joined Gospel Publishing Mission that Sunday afternoon.

It's why we keep working on the all-purpose building at Martin Lakota Chapel during the week. 

"What do you think of it, Dad?" Danny texted along with the above photo he'd taken after he and the Lakota workers had finished all the siding they could do on the place.

 It's the same spirit of evangelism that a team had thirty-five years ago in June of 1989, 

when my brother and I joined a group going to China to share the gospel for ten days.

I am hoping to find time to do the final edit of the story about that trip in this proof that came in the mail a couple months ago.  

It's why we keep working--even in the middle of our own personal battles.

People need the Lord.

And we need to tell them about Him and His love--whether in word, in deed, or in printed form.

God so loved the world.

And that includes you.

The Dying Tree--and the Dove

Today as I tried to unpack and put away myriad items we'd brought back home with us from Arizona, I took a break about lunch time to go down to the basement patio to sit on the swing with my bare feet on the concrete patio, grounding.

 

I was thinking about having been told by more than one doctor or other person very recently that I should seek to find release for some emotions that are "offline," or stuck. 

A certain kind of scan was showing up emotional issues. 

Severe.

Emotions that are supposed to be expressed and then released, but which we've been taught, especially us conservative Christians, to not have in the first place, and if we have them, 

to for heaven's sake not express them. 

Emotions like anger, jealousy, fear, anxiety. 
I listened as I was told these emotions are "offline" for me. And causing issues.

(But don't you know those are carnal?) 

Forget the differing opinions and theologies. When you are fighting a terminal illness, a whole lot of stuff either surfaces or slides off--or both.

I was sitting there thinking about some of the intense stresses I've faced in the less-distant past, let's say from twenty years ago to eight years ago.

Stress beyond belief. 

Stuff.

No details, just memories of pain beyond belief, emotions that I couldn't describe or figure out, much less express except through anguished walks, sometimes wandering through the fields wondering if I was losing my mind. 

How could I keep from losing my mind?

Today I remembered those long, anguished days, months, and years, wondering how much of it was from my own mindset, my own upbringing, my own church background and teaching, my own physical issues, and who knows what.

It wasn't the time to cast blame on others.

And I sat there and sobbed.

I felt like I was throwing up a lot of stuff--dry heaves of pain and anguish, stresses and hurts and negative emotions.

I cried so hard that I couldn't cry very long.

It was all out. 

And then I sat there quietly, listening to the squeaking of the blade-less windmill creaking in the warm breeze.

I couldn't understand why it was a pleasant sound instead of annoying.

It reminded me, possibly, of wind chimes at other people's places that feel peaceful to me.

Could my own place of stress become peaceful to me?

 

As I looked up from my journal, I heard a sudden flutter, and there flew a dove--straight to the elm tree that we are afraid is dying of the fungal disease that is killing so many elm in our area, and possibly all through the country.  

The dove flew to a branch of the dying tree and sat there quietly, probably looking at me.

There had been doves in Arizona that reminded me of peace, and suddenly, there is one here in South Dakota, fluttering up to a tree branch and sitting there watching me--like the dying tree, waiting for the dove of peace to light on one of the branches of a broken heart.  

I let the dove alight.

There was peace.

We Do Not Walk Alone

Eight days ago in Arizona, Jonathan and I realized we were driving within a mile of another patient's rented home who had been receiving treatments at Oasis of Healing clinic the whole time I have been going. We decided to buy a pot of flowers to take to her as we said goodbye, since she and her family were also leaving Arizona, the same day we were!

 

Jonathan and I found this profoundly interesting. Thirteen months ago when I first arrived at the clinic in Arizona, this Mennonite couple met us. They had arrived one week earlier and were able to encourage us as we began to navigate the port surgery, treatments, and finding our way in this new world of cancer treatment. 

We have been fellow patients this entire time. The clinic staff seated us next to each other as they quickly understood that we two ladies had a lot in common besides cancer, including conservative Christian beliefs.  

To our surprise, we both left the clinic behind on the very same day.

As Jonathan and I packed and began our journey back to South Dakota via Colorado, we thought how providential it had been for Judy and me to have each other, and for Jonathan and her husband Willie to have each other as they each tried to support a wife's physical battle. 

Neither she nor I know how this journey will end, but one thing we know.

We have not walked alone.

As Jonathan and I drove through Navajo land in northern Arizona, we passed more than one flock of sheep, such as this one above.

One flock had a shepherd with it, near the road. I almost asked Jonathan to turn around so I could get a picture of the shepherd with his sheep.

"I am the good shepherd," Jesus said. "My sheep know my voice; and I know them, and they follow me."  

In a cancer journey, I have to admit that I have not always known the voice of God when it came to what treatment to do.

Do we go conventional or alternative?

Do we do chemo or not? What about surgery?

Do we go to this clinic or that one or another place? 

I haven't been sure of God's voice in these matters. Maybe others hear God's voice saying, "Do chemo," or "Have surgery," or "Use alternative treatment plans."

I prayed for guidance, but I never heard it like that. Much of what I have done has just been the best I knew to do with my knowledge, background, experiences, and research, along with a husband's help and professionals' guidance.

I longed to hear God's voice saying, "Do this." I would have done it.

But one thing I know, no matter what I chose, or what direction I went,

 I did not walk alone. 

When I entered Oasis of Healing Clinic in AZ, God had Judy there ahead of me.

When I was sitting quietly last week at UC Health Breast Surgery suite in Colorado Springs, a Christian lady we knew came through the door with a couple Spanish-speaking ladies. Our friend speaks Spanish and little did we know has worked at UC Health for quite a few years as a medical translator.  

I had hardly sat down when here came one of God's "angels" with a smile to ask us how we were.

When I walk through the dark valley of not knowing, He is there, the good Shepherd.

I never walk alone.

When You Need to Breathe--and Instead, You Snore

 "To put it in perspective," the sleep apnea doctor told me last week, "the normal airway is about 16 millimeters wide. Yours is six."

I sat there in my chair around the corner from these beautiful orchids in his front office and thought, "No wonder I sat bolt upright in bed three times last night, choking for air. Is that why I am always choking on nothing in particular, too?"

I had gone in to that doctor's office in Scottsdale, AZ, very unhappy and worried that we were wasting money and energy. I had been in so much pain before going, and I was exhausted, between recuperating from chemo and trying to do laundry and pack all morning. I wouldn't look at Jonathan sitting silently across from me by the window--that man that said I stopped breathing at night and then started back up again with a snore (or more). I couldn't hear myself snore, so maybe he was just dreaming it. :) :) That man thought I might need this exam because I might be badly oxygen-depleted at night, contributing to not being able to fight off this cancer.

This doctor does a special laser treatment that is non-invasive and painless (they say), by gently heating tissues of the airway (and also the tongue in my case) to tighten them up. Typically they do three treatments about 20 days apart but even if I just did one treatment, that one treatment usually takes care of 50% of the problem. No anesthesia or surgery needed. It's in-office.  I could get a follow-up treatment done in another state with another doctor who does Night Laze.

On the way, passing this sign on Jackrabbit Road, we had discussed together that we could turn in the bills to Samaritan Ministries as a new need, so as not to dip into the small cancer fund amount we have left with them. I just hate costing money.

 And there I sat miserably in this chair, staring out the window and having to decide whether to be upset or calm. Besides, on the way I had been thinking that if I stopped breathing at night and never did start again, that would be the most painless and merciful way to go to heaven that I can imagine. I really did think that, over and over. I really didn't want to get this fixed. I don't know what the future holds for me. So I refused to look at that man over there by the window who might be keeping me from painlessly going to heaven! :) :)

"Breathe it out," I told myself, taking one deep breath after another in that doctor's office chair (not quite like the one pictured above where I was waiting for chemo.) Sometimes when you can't decide between being upset or calm, you can just breathe out the uncertainty and angst. Sometimes you are too upset to pray, and you just have to breathe it out--and then pray.  It really does help. I had been so light-headed from exhaustion and pain when I had to stand for the jaw and head CT scan. And I was still close to blacking out in the chair. But I kept breathing and trying hard not to just be upset. And then when the doc took all those pictures of my airway and bent jawbones and a nose that had been broken sometime in the far distant past and started showing them to us, I was just blown away. 

What on earth has happened to me through these years--to that little girl now sitting 58 years old in a stiff chair in the doctor office?

Who knows? I dimly remember hitting my face on something with my glasses on, or maybe a volleyball hitting it, and maybe that's when it broke and I didn't know it.

My jaw bones or joints were very bent, he showed us, one like a boomerang when both of them are supposed to be straight. He said all these things that are out of whack with my nose, jaws, and airway are contributing to struggling to breathe sometimes at night . When I lie down at night, the imperfect jaws put even more pressure on the airway, he showed us. 

I sat there in my chair with my bent jaws, broken-in-the-past nose, inflammation in one side of my nose, a squeezed airway, and a whole exhausted body. 

We took home the apparatus for the sleep test and made the appointment to return in two days for the laser procedure.

I hardly slept that night, I don't know why, except that apparatus and the clip on my finger kept me from relaxing.

Maybe that man sitting across from me in the doctor office had brought up a valid point. Maybe there were reasons I was snoring--and choking--instead of breathing at night. 

 I think of the many times when life circumstances squeeze our airways almost closed, 

like boomerang-crooked jaws,

broken noses, 

and inflamed air passages.

We need to breathe peacefully, and instead we are choking for air,

gasping just to survive,

irritating other people with our helpless snoring or struggles to work through issues,

and clutching for hope. 

In just thirty minutes, two days later, that doctor had widened my airway nearly 50%, using the gentle laser light and heat.

He showed us by taking pictures the difference it made. I could feel the difference immediately. I could breathe better, swallow more easily. 

Just thirty minutes with the Lord, letting His gentle laser light shine on the restricted pathways of our heart and spirit and soul

and we can feel the difference, the release, 

the flow of energy, 

peace.

We are breathing quietly instead of snoring.

Instead of choking, we are at peace.

 

If I Could Just Sit With My Feet in a Mountain Stream

As our hopes faded of my condition getting any further effective help at the clinic in Arizona, Jonathan and I made the decision to pack up my belongings in Arizona and head to Colorado on our way to South Dakota. I had decided that surgery was probably the only option I had left. A doctor friend in Colorado was trying to get us in to a breast surgeon acquaintance. In the back of my mind, I was thinking, "If there was something I really wanted to do right now, it is to sit by a mountain stream somewhere with my feet in the flowing water." It wasn't just a desire. It was an urge. It was something I needed to do.

When Jonathan burst into tears Wednesday noon, saying that with our 30th anniversary coming up, he felt it was now or never to pack up and spend time in the mountains on our way to Colorado, I told him I felt the same way, only I was hesitant to say it out loud. I was in a lot of pain. By four-o'clock that afternoon, I packed the last item, Jonathan stuffed the last thing into our little white Honda in 108-degree heat, and away we went. We spent the night at the cheapest hotel we could find in Flagstaff, which actually turned out to be a lovely place with potted flowers and a breakfast nook. We sat on a bench in the twilight by flowers, holding hands. 

I snapped this photo at the hospital in Colorado Springs, but oh, well, it works great here!

The next day we drove through northern Arizona, a tiny corner of New Mexico, and into Colorado. I was taking a turn driving so Jonathan could handle some paperwork when I saw a road turning off that looked like maybe it went to a mountain stream. 

It did!

When we found a good place to pull off just before a National Forest Campground, I hadn't even opened my door before I discovered stems of wild raspberry bushes loaded with little red berries waiting just outside my door! I could hardly believe it!

Jonathan and I both went like happy six-year-olds to search for and pick berries!

Having picked all I could find, I made my way to the stream, and there was another loaded bush, just dripping with berries! Both Jonathan and I picked and picked, popping red mountain juiciness into our mouths. Those berries were not particularly sweet, but they were chock full of sunshine vitamins!

I pulled off my sandals and found a little rock on which to sit. The water was cold, but I stuck them in anyway. The water was so cold, but I kept them in there. Down in Arizona, when I had been in extreme pain one night after some of the earliest chemo and herceptin infusions last year, I had gone to Salt River, and to my surprise, the pain went away all the time I was standing with my feet in the river water! Flowing water, we learned, such as in a mountain stream has free electrons, carrying the earth's energy. (I learned this is scientific and not something weird like people who talk about energy as if it was a god.) Having your feet in a mountain stream has more than emotional benefits. It has health benefits, too, as the exchange of electrons helps a person's body release negative energy and absorb positive. 

Jonathan brought me more berries, which I ate, hoping that the pain would miraculously go away as had happened last year in Arizona.

Instead, the pain became worse.  

So much for flowing mountain streams, free electrons, and natural pain relief!

However, in my anguish, as I checked for the source of even worse pain, I realized that the awful purple mass on top of the cancer had burst and was draining!

I did not know what to think. Had a small miracle just happened?

It had. 

The pain was not quite as bad now.

Sparing the gory details, I dealt with the wound care as Jonathan drove us through the rest of the evening and into the wee hours of Thursday morning to arrive at our daughter Carrie's cabin near Colorado Springs. We thought we'd stop at the ER, but I was so tired, I couldn't fathom sitting for hours on a hard chair waiting for care. So we tried to sleep at our daughter's place.

 

The next morning, just before heading to the ER, we got a call from the cancer surgeon's office, from whom we'd been waiting for days to receive a call back about an appointment about possible surgery. She had an appointment for us for Monday as well as instructions for how to deal with the draining mass. She prescribed an antibiotic and antibiotic ointment and said if it wasn't bleeding non-stop, not to bother to go to the ER. The ER wouldn't help anything.

What a relief! I went to bed instead of to the ER. 

An hour or two later, as I was wondering how I was ever going to endure the pain until Monday, God sent an angel of a neighbor, Carrie's landlady who is a pediatrician. She asked if she could take a look at me, and then she and her friend came in close to pray with me. A couple hours later, she came again, just after that mass had started to drain all over again. She started helping to place warm, wet compresses on it, calling it an abscess, and I watched that thing melt away right under my eyeballs!

All the rest of that afternoon, we kept applying warm washcloth compresses and letting that thing drain. Carrie's landlady was an absolute angel! By evening, I was in almost no pain at all. 

One of God's humbling mercies in the middle of an anguished journey!

Over the next few days that mass has disappeared.

A small (but large) miracle that started with my feet in a mountain stream.